


Devil's Ditch And Moose Knuckle

by Sybilina



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Humor, Light Angst, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 01:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6136312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sybilina/pseuds/Sybilina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faith's out of the slammer, Willow and Kennedy have an open relationship, and maybe Robin isn't in the picture yet.  And two years in prison is a long time.</p>
<p>And maybe Faith is a little curious.</p>
<p>And when did Willow get so hot?</p>
<p>Happy Femslash February!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil's Ditch And Moose Knuckle

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry for the title.

Faith was already well on her way to being drunk. If we were honest with ourselves, which is rare let's be real, she was well past “on her way” and treading the territory of “I should probably stop.” Which, for Faith, meant Full Speed Ahead.

She popped the cap off of another Heineken and took a swig.

The door clicked shut and she didn't need to turn to see who it was, or wouldn't need to if her senses were all working at full power. Usually her sense of smell or just looking at the shadow on the porch wood sufficed. But she did turn, because she'd gotten into the habit long ago because people often found it disconcerting how she knew it was them without looking. And because everything was a bit wobbly and she didn't exactly trust her senses at the moment.

Willow held a half-full glass of wine, white with bubbles sizzling to the top, and Faith had a moment to wonder what the celebration was and why she wasn't invited before she was clicking the rim of the beer bottle to her teeth in an effort to drown the thoughts. Interesting how being in a house full of girls who were more like her than anyone else in the world still left her with the bitter taste of loneliness. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Willow settle on the railing beside her. Distantly, she wondered why. Of all the railing space around this huge porch, why would Willow settle in the spot next to her?

Only distantly, though. Mostly, her attention was on the setting sun. She'd been watching it for a while now, the way it arched through the sky, ducking behind clouds now and then, and it had been drifting off in the spaces between the houses of Clancy and Merle. At one point, after beer eight and before beer twelve, she'd meandered through the houses, reading their mail, admiring their knick knacks. She'd never had a home long enough to acquire knick knacks and they always filled her with an angry kind of envy. No one needed knick knacks yet all these assholes filled their homes to the brim with them.

On the way out of the Merle household, she'd pocketed a glass rabbit statue, small enough to fit in her pocket. It could have been an Easter decoration but she didn't care. When was Easter, anyway?

Not that it mattered. Most holidays were a blur to her anyway, even when she did pay attention to the calendar. 

It wasn't like they'd miss it anyway. This was the apocalypse. If anyone ever came back to Sunnydale, she'd be surprised.

She heard the sizzle pop of the wine in Willow's glass as it sloshed about gently, retracting from being poured into her mouth as she set it on the porch railing. Willow hissed gently after she swallowed and Faith smirked. The old “I hate this but I'm gonna fucking drink it anyway” routine. Faith was an old hat at that one.

Before she knew it, she was pulling out a beer bottle and holding it in the space between her and the redhead. It didn't even occur to her that Willow might decline until she was in the awkward situation of figuring out how she might handle rejection. Not a normal situation for her to be in. But then the bottle was taken out of her hand and the bubbly alcohol went flying into the front yard.

“Don't tell Xander I did that,” Willow said.

“You know how I love to tattle,” Faith said.

They sat in somewhat companionable silence for a while. Willow hummed in contentment as she swallowed a swig of beer, making Faith smirk again.

She liked to imagine the Clancy and the Merle's had a kind of passive aggressive rivalry going on. The Summers were the oblivious ones of the neighborhood, and Miss Golden next door, who was probably older than any of the original Golden Girls, probably watched Buffy sneak out every night and didn't even care. Faith had a strange, unexplainable love for the old coot she'd never even met. Who knows, maybe it was her grandson collecting her Social Security check every month and the original Miss Golden was actually buried in the backyard while he jerked off to internet porn or shot up with heroin. But Faith liked to imagine.

But the Clancy and the Merle's, Faith had decided, they fought. With smiles and fancy lawn mowers and garage sales every year to prove how much money they had that they were practically giving away new shit. She remembered Christmas and their decorations. Joyce had sent pictures to her while she was in jail.

She always figured Joyce stopped caring. It had never occurred to her that she'd died.

Of course, that wasn't surprising. Not that she died, because that was incredibly surprising. But the fact that no one had sought Faith out to explain to her what happened. Joyce probably never told anyone she sent mail to Faith. Of all the people on Break The News To List, Faith didn't make the cut.

It really wasn't surprising. She never made the cut.

“You hate me,” she said suddenly. It wasn't like her to bury anything. She liked pulling the thorns to the surface and scrubbing over it and over it until she bled. It wasn't a habit she was likely to break now.

Glancing over, unsure if her beer-mate was even still present, she found Willow gazing at the sunset, the light glittering in her eyes. They shifted and settled on Faith and she was startled suddenly by how much Willow had changed. Back in the old days, when Willow was still in high school, she could shoot razor sharp glances of hate her way but when Faith caught her, she always turned red and looked away. Now, Willow seemed to have the strength of twenty slayers. It made Faith's cheeks start to warm and make her want to look away.

“Hate is a strong word,” Willow said.

“And yet...” Faith prompted. She never seemed to get enough of people talking about her flaws.

“I did hate you,” Willow said in a very Willow-esque way. She could make even insults sound cute and gentle. “I did hate you very much. There was a lot of hate once upon a time. So. Okay, yes, there might be some residual hate.”

“Uh huh. I thought as much,” Faith said, feeling at ease and content with Willow's words.

“But you're different now,” she continued, making Faith glance at her once more. “You've grown. You're better. Wholer. Good.”

For a moment, she thought Willow had called her holier and she had a joke ready on her tongue to fling out into the air and break this apparently heavy mood that was settling over them. But the last word caught her off guard, spun her feet out from under her, figuratively though if she'd actually been standing she might have lost coordination in her legs anyway. Willow called her good. Had anyone called her good? Anyone who wasn't a bed partner? How long had that been, anyway?

It took her an embarrassingly long time to recover but when she did, she couldn't control what came out of her mouth. The beer was making its way through her brain and cutting the cords to her brain to mouth filters. “You've grown, too,” she said. She smirked at the way Willow raised an eyebrow, the classic “You calling me fat?” look. “Last I knew, you were making moon eyes at a drummer boy. What was the name of the band? Banjos kicked my baby?”

Willow grinned, looked at her with soft eyes that left Faith wondering if that look was for her or for the distant memory of an old love. She wondered if anyone looked that way when thinking about her.

She doubted it.

“The days of the penis are long past,” Willow said, smiling still.

“Huh. Didn't know lesbians could even say the word.”

“Cock,” Willow said. “Dick. One-Eyed Weasel. Whoopie Stick.” This one earned a snort out of Faith. “Or my favorite: schlong.”

“Half Wiccan half Jew favors schlong while getting the V,” Faith said. “Impressive.”

“Nuh uh,” Willow said, nearly choking on her beer as she hurried to argue. “It's Moose Knuckle.”

“Really,” Faith said. “Huh. I always thought it was called Devil's Ditch.”

“Yours might be,” Willow said, but she winked when Faith looked at her.

“You've got quite the mouth on you,” Faith said.

“I know. Kennedy tells me every day.”

“Holy shit,” Faith said, drawing it out into three syllables. “Can you teach B a thing or two? She's not nearly as nasty as you and frankly, I'm dyin' for it.”

Willow just smiled. It took Faith a second or two to realize her error. Anything Buff related was off limits.

“You ever miss it?” Faith asked.

“The Heat Seeking Moisture Missile? Nah,” Willow said through Faith's chortles.

“I don't think I could ever do it,” Faith said.

“You don't know what you're missing,” Willow said.

“I don't mean getting with a lady,” Faith said. “I mean swearing off the Thundersword.”

She took another swig before she realized Willow was staring at her.

“What?” she asked. “I got something on my face?”

“You've thought about... getting with a lady?”

“How did we get from schlongs and moose knuckles to you blushing about fucking?”

If anything, Willow blushed harder. “You just... you like dick.”

“Hey, you used that one already. One Eyed Willy has plenty of names to choose from, way more than the Cum Dumpster. Be creative.”

Willow chuckled into her beer before sighing. “I always thought of you as completely on the far, far, far side of the Kinsey Scale.”

“The fuck is a Kinsey Scale?”

“Well, there was this guy back in the 1940's who... you know what, basically I always pegged you as being incredibly heterosexual. That's all.”

Faith shrugged. “When you're cooped up with a hundred other women and you've got the sexual prowess of a fucking bunny rabbit, sometimes you have thoughts. That's all I'm saying.”

“So you never acted on these thoughts?”

“Hell no. Never know what kind of cooties those cooters have. Get it? See what I did there?”

Willow nodded with a faint smile on her face. Then she motioned to the door behind them. “There's dozens of women here who would probably beg to slip between your sheets.”

“That a play on words? What do they call 'em... euphemism?” Willow just grinned. “'Sides, those ain't women. They're girls. Pretty sure a lot of them are going to die, too.”

It hit her suddenly, in the way only alcohol allows for, the truth of the matter. They were in the middle of a war, a newly created ghost town, and even demons were becoming scarce.

“You might die,” Willow said, breaking through Faith's haze of darkness. “So why not get a few more romps in?”

“Good point, Little Red, good point.” Then she thought about it for a moment. “Not sure I'd know where to start.”

“What do you mean?” Willow asked, a faint trace of amusement on her face.

Faith was used to being laughed at, though. “Well, for me, I know what to do, been doing it a few decades, I'm old hat. But for someone else, I mean... it would get all...”

“Wet?” Willow said, full on grinning.

Faith made a face. “Yeah. Guess that's the term.”

“You know, if you make a girl wet, that's a good thing, right?”

Now it was Faith's turn to blush. She didn't realize she still could. She glanced around behind her. “Of all the times someone's walked in on me in the bathroom, why is no one walking in on this conversation?”

“Seriously? All this talk about the ding dong dipstick and the bearded clam and shagging, suddenly you're blushing at the word... wet?”

Faith swallowed. “When you put it like that...”

“Go on,” Willow said and one quick look at her, Faith could see her eyes were dancing in merriment.

“You're getting a kick out of this.”

“The biggest kick.”

“That's it, I'm taking my beer,” Faith said, standing up. She wasn't truly angry or bothered by the conversation but there was only so red her ears could get before she needed to bail.

“Oh, stop it,” Willow said, standing up and getting in her way. “I'm just teasing.”

“Save that for Kennedy,” Faith said with an amused smile.

“Honestly? She wouldn't mind sharing me.”

“You making a come on?” Faith asked.

Suddenly, Faith realized how little distance there was between them as Willow stepped even closer. She smelled like fruits and whipped cream and champagne.

“And if I was?”

“Babe, you're going to have to wait until I sober up, then,” Faith said. “Sex is something I do with a clear head and full feeling in my tongue, if you know what I mean.” Then she licked her lips and didn't miss the way Willow's eyes dipped down to follow the movement.

“Rain check, then,” Willow said, smiling as she reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind Faith's ear.

For a moment, Faith felt like her world was shaking. Then she shook her head, dislodging the hair Willow had just fixed. The classic sad Willow look made an appearance and Faith reached up and tucked the same lock back behind her ear. “Rain check,” she repeated before turning and practically dashing inside.

 

* * *

 

A few days later found Faith dumping the last three frosted mini wheats into a bowl. She sighed before reaching up over the fridge, one hand still on her bowl because she learned the hard way that three mini wheats didn't fill a whole bowl but were absolutely coveted and would be stolen away within seconds if the original owner wasn't careful. She pulled down a similarly empty box of lucky charms, shrugged, and dumped whatever was left into her bowl. She hummed for a moment, gently chewing the sides of her cheeks before deciding no, it was not enough, and she reached over the fridge one more time and landed on some cocoa puffs. Strangely, this box felt full, and she stepped back to peer over the top of the fridge and realized it was one of five boxes. She rolled her eyes and shook out enough little balls of cocoa into her bowl to fill the it to the rim.

Two of the girls were about to pull out the fangs and claws as they yanked on the milk container, which honestly didn't even have enough for a single cup of tea let alone a bowl of cereal, so Faith held her bowl in the sink under the faucet until the water filled in the empty space. It wasn't necessarily her favorite way to eat cereal but it wasn't her first time eating it this way, either. And it sure beat prison food.

“I forgot,” Dawn said from behind her and Faith glanced at her with a mouthful of extremely different yet strangely delicious medley of breakfast noms.

“Forgot what? We're out of lucky charms?” Faith asked.

“You're the one. You and I used to make strange concoctions in the kitchen when we were waiting for Buffy to get home.”

Faith grinned. “Good times.”

Dawn scowled at her and nearly hip-checked her out of the way to get to the fridge. Dawn might not have been a slayer or even a potential but her hip-checking abilities were epic, so Faith wisely maneuvered out of the way.

When Willow came into the kitchen, Faith spied Kennedy handing her a cup of coffee with a quick kiss to the cheek before Willow left blearily. Willow wasn't a morning person, much as her pep implied, but Faith was faintly surprised she didn't stay in the room. Then she glanced around and realized there was literally nowhere left for her to sit or stand.

Her eyes trailed back to Kennedy, who was watching her, and when their eyes met Kennedy glanced back to where Willow had exited, glanced back to Faith and winked with a smirk. Then she began rounding up the potentials for their morning routines.

Faith realized her water was spilling back into the bowl from where her spoon had stopped halfway to her mouth.

A few minutes later, she was rinsing the bowl out in the sink, still puzzling over what Kennedy's look had meant. No, scratch that, she knew exactly what Kennedy's look had meant. She'd given enough of those looks to Buffy in the past, motioning to some cute guy in a club.

A mug slipped into the sink from behind her and she nearly jumped. It wasn't every day someone startled Faith. But the years since killing the deputy mayor had taught her to ask questions first, so she tensed and forced herself to relax when she saw a familiar head of amber hair.

“You really need to relax,” Willow said softly.

“Me?” Faith said, turning and leaning against the counter. If the pose worked for men, it might work for women. “You're the one jumping and turning yourself into a man because of a kiss.”

“Nice of you to bring that up,” Willow said, giving one look to Faith's chest before turning and walking out of the room.

Faith felt a spike of guilt rush through her. It was a familiar feeling but how to deal with it was what she always got wrong. She followed Willow into the living room. “Sorry, Red, I didn't mean...”

“Don't apologize,” Willow said, turning on her and crowding her against the wall. “And don't call me Red.”

“What do you want me to call you?” Faith said, her mouth dry. “Love Goddess?”

“That's a nice start,” Willow said with a side-smirk.

For a moment, Faith was speechless. Then she put her hands on Willow's hips, enjoying the way Willow's smirk faded and her eyes widened. If this was going to happen, she was going to own it. “When did you get so sexy?”

“I've always been sexy,” she said with a little self-indulgent wiggle.

“Guess what?” Faith said, glancing at Willow's lips. “I'm not drunk.”

“This early in the morning? I should hope not,” Willow said.

Faith smiled. Then she pulled Willow in close and leaned so her lips were beside Willow's ear. “I can feel my tongue.”

“Oh,” Willow said. Faith wasn't sure why but it made her laugh at the way Willow sounded like a prude yet sexually experienced MILF when she said that. “I... I have a... uh bedroom? If... if you want?”

Faith leaned back against the wall again, letting her thumbs rub the edges of Willow's jeans. “Why do we need to go to a bedroom? All the girls are outside.”

Willow laughed without humor and a little breathlessly. “Yes well... there are boys... boys who I'm pretty sure would love to watch two... stud-muffins like us... doing the do. Well. Maybe not Andrew. But definitely Xander.”

“So?” Faith said, edging Willow's shirt up. She was finding this easy. And Willow was twenty times more responsive than any guy she'd ever been with. “Wait, you're not worried about Spike?”

“It's pretty... pretty early. He's usually sleeping... this time of day.”

Faith felt her grin widening at the way Willow was already panting. Wasn't she supposed to be teaching Faith?

“You're... enjoying this... far too much.” Suddenly, Faith's hands whipped back and slammed against the wall beside her head, a slight vibration beginning in the crease of her jeans. “Much better,” Willow said and Faith was pretty sure she went full on cat for a moment, the way she purred. Faith closed her eyes for a moment, feeling a sudden rush like she hadn't felt before. Getting Willow all hot and bothered was one thing, and she enjoyed that thing, but experiencing her abilities, being held to the wall like this, was a completely different level. None of her other lovers had ever been able to hold her down, much as she enjoyed letting them pretend.

“I could leave you here,” Willow said. “Since you like being watched so much. I could go upstairs, leave you pinned to the wall, that feeling between your legs getting more and more intense.”

“Aww, Willow,” Faith said, controlling her breathing and forcing herself to open her eyes. “That's no fun. Remember? Feeling in my tongue?” She winked but immediately closed her eyes again as the feeling increased. Her hips pulled away from the wall, searching for something that wasn't there, before she felt an invisible hand shove her back against the plaster.

Willow hummed and Faith realized she'd leaned in close to her. She could practically feel the hum through their chests, the heat radiating off of Willow's body. “You make a good case,” she said.

Suddenly the feeling went away, all of it, and Faith's hands fell. 

“But not here,” Willow said, her face and tone taking on that of a strict schoolteacher. If anything, it turned Faith on more. Willow turned and made her way to the stairs. After only a moment, Faith collected herself and followed her.

Once she was inside the room, the door clicking shut behind her, her hands twisted behind her as she turned the lock, Willow turned to look at her, the old nervous Willow back in full force. But after a moment, Faith realized this wasn't the same old nervous Willow from years ago. This was a new, more mature kind of nervous.

“We don't have to do this,” Willow said. “I feel like maybe I pushed you into this, egged you on.”

“Ha,” Faith said. “Egg.”

Willow looked at her in confusion for a moment before chuckling. “Seriously, Faith.”

“I gotta tell ya, out of all the Scooby Gang, I never imagined screwing you.”

Willow raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, I kind of screwed B in ways other than between the sheets. And I already screwed Xander.”

“Don't lie, Faith,” Willow said. “Everyone knows you had the hots for Buffy.”

Faith let her head fall against the door. “That obvious?”

Willow looked surprised for a moment. “I didn't think you'd admit it so easily.”

Faith shrugged. It didn't really matter, did it? Willow was gay and probably not going to tell Buffy, because if she did, it would prompt the question of why Willow and Faith were having that kind of conversation. And anyway, B was hot. Who didn't have a crush on her?

“Wait. I'm not... I'm not a stand in for Buffy, am I?” Willow seemed genuinely concerned for a moment.

Finally, Faith pushed off from the door to approach Willow. She hesitated for only a second before reaching out and carding her fingers through Willow's hair, cupping the side of her head. “So. Do I get to top?”

Willow frowned at her for a moment, no doubt wondering why Faith didn't answer her question. And how could she? No one could stand in for Buffy, certainly not Willow who had carved her own way, made her own place, and seemed to create her own shadow, not live in someone else's. But Faith wasn't a sap, she wasn't schmoopy, and even if she fucked Willow, or got fucked by her, she could never have her. Not really. People like Faith didn't deserve people like Willow, or people like Buffy.

But she'd be damned if she'd let one night of pretending pass her by. Or morning, as the case seemed to be.

“No one tops,” Willow said.

“Wait, you mean there's no strap ons?” Faith said. “What if I want to wear a strap on?”

“I can send you some good websites,” Willow said.

Faith grinned and let go, feeling suddenly weird and intimate holding Willow like that, despite what they were about to do. Usually it was in and out, in a manner of speaking. This felt slow. Gradual. 

It made Faith's skin crawl.

“So how do we do this then?” Faith asked, turning as she neared the bed to flop down on it backwards, resting on her elbows, legs spread provocatively.

Willow looked at her, confused. “I thought you were a pro.”

Faith shrugged. “Usually I kill some vamps, get all hot and bothered, find the nearest and cutest, take him back to my place for a romp, then turn him loose.”

“Yes,” Willow said dryly, “I remember.”

For a moment, Faith was confused. Then it dawned on her. “You still harshing on that? Someone was bound to pop Xander's cherry eventually. If it'd been you, that would have made for a mountain of endless confusion, trust me.”

“Eh, I'm not sure you know the kind of friendship Xander and I have.”

Faith licked her teeth, trying not to admit to how much that stung. Because it was true. The closest friend she'd ever had was Buffy and Buffy had nearly killed her. So she shook her head, maneuvering her hair so it fell over her shoulders. “So. You take off your clothes, I take off mine? That's usually how it goes, right?”

Willow grinned and instantly, Faith realized what was about to happen. Logically, she knew. She'd come into Willow's bedroom to get laid, by a woman no less. But she'd never realized she was actually attracted to Willow until that smile.

Despite everything she'd been through, it was so selfless, so joyful, so innocent. Faith wanted to vomit at how it made her heart stutter.

“So what you're saying,” Willow said, “is you have no idea what foreplay is.”

“What do you mean? It's all play.” Faith wiggled, grinning.

“Foreplay,” Willow said, approaching her and standing in the V of her legs. Something about the movement made Faith's smile fall, made her shiver to stay still. Willow touched her arms just above her elbows and trailed her hands up, slow, her fingers dancing gently on Faith's bare skin. She was wearing a sleeveless, as per her usual, and she felt her skin prickle. Then Willow's hands were touching her neck, gently forcing her chin up, until her hands were resting on either side, thumbs trailing just below her jaw. Faith swallowed. “Boys only know the distant idea, the vague textbook version of foreplay.” Willow leaned down just enough so her lips hovered over Faith's. “I'm a pro.”

Then their lips were touching, soft and gentle and wet, Willow's tongue dragging along Faith's lower lip before slipping inside.

And wasn't that something. For a moment, Faith felt a swell of emotion rise within her because this? Was nothing like any kiss she'd ever experienced before. It was all wet and warm, insistent but not demanding, lenient but not submissive. Like Willow knew she had the upper hand but she wasn't rubbing Faith's face in it.

Faith reached up, one arm behind Willow's back, her other hand bracing against the bed for her next move.

But before she could whip Willow onto the bed like she'd planned, Willow stepped back, into the hand behind her. Faith didn't want to push, or pull as the case might be, but she was confused. She hated being confused.

“Stop,” Willow said softly. “Let it be.”

“You gonna sing now?” Faith asked.

“What?” Willow said, cocking her head to the side, confused. It was uncomfortably adorable.

“Ain't that the song from the movie? About the ice?”

Understanding seemed to dawn on Willow's face. “Frozen. Let it go is the song. I don't want you to let it go. Just let it be.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Faith asked. She did, though. She let her hand fall to Willow's waist, hooking into a belt loop. Willow filled out in all the right ways, Faith decided then. While being in the slammer, she'd forgotten how well clothes could fit.

“Just like that,” Willow said. Then she was back, lips on hers, this time pushing Faith until she was on her back on the bed.

She wasn't used to being on her back. Usually she was on top. Even when she was on the bottom, she was on top. But it didn't make sense to wrap her legs around Willow. That was for grinding. Did grinding work on women the way it did men?

The bed dipped as Willow climbed on top of her. The only indication she had that she was moving was the way her hair pulled beneath her but slowly and suddenly, she was at the head of the bed, her hair fanning out on the pillow beneath her head.

“That's kind of hot,” she said. Willow grinned at her, self-satisfied, and then Faith felt a feather-light tickle on her skin above her jeans. “You could just whisk away my shirt, couldn't you?”

“I can do a lot of things,” Willow said, biting her lip playfully. Faith leaned up helpfully as Willow slipped her shirt up and over her head, leaving Faith with just her bra on. It was just scratching the surface, though. Faith wanted more. Or less, really. How come they weren't naked yet?

“So what's with all the slow?”

“You're thinking too much,” Willow said, pushing her back against the bed, her lips against Faith's jaw.

Faith swallowed, breathing shallowly. “Usually I'm a lot farther along than this.”

Willow leaned up suddenly, straddling her, Faith realized. When did that happen? “You haven't gone out killing anything today, have you?”

“Is that a poorly timed and ill-humored joke?” Faith asked, aiming for teasing but it came out biting. She hadn't killed anyone in a long time.

“'Usually I kill some vamps, get all hot and bothered, find the nearest and cutest, take him back to my place for a romp, then turn him loose,'” Willow said and Faith blinked and the sound of her own voice coming out of Willow's lips. “That's what you said, right?”

Faith swallowed, not sure why or how but finding herself incredibly turned on by Willow's seemingly effortless abilities. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

“So, if you haven't killed any vamps, then you're not hot and bothered, right?” Willow said, leaning down to kiss her sternum. Faith found herself panting into the red mess of hair just below her nose. “And that... just... won't... do,” Willow said, pausing frequently to kiss different sections of Faith's chest.

“Wil, babe, I think we're well past hot and bothered and quickly approaching slick,” Faith said.

She felt a huff of air against the swell of a breast and accidentally thrust up with her chest, not realizing what she was doing until it was too late.

“You got magic lips or somethin'?” Faith asked.

“I'm made of magic,” Willow whispered, one blunt nail tracing Faith's ribs. It tickled, just barely, enough to make Faith twitch but not enough to make her laugh, for which she was grateful.

“Come on,” Faith said, reaching down and pulling at Willow's clothes.

Willow flattened against her, hindering her efforts though, they both knew, if Faith really wanted to she could overpower Willow. Physically, anyway. Faith had no idea what Willow's limits were magically. She had a feeling Willow didn't either.

“Are you really that eager for it to be over?” Willow whispered into her ear and Faith felt a tendril of cold and warmth slide down her spine. Willow's lips pressed in against her neck and Faith felt generations of slayer instinct press against her, forcing her to nearly shove Willow away. Every fiber of her being told her that Willow was stronger, more powerful than she was, despite everything she knew about Willow, and that made her want to shield her neck.

Instead, she pressed her head back, giving Willow more access, feeling something inside of her still almost at once, holding her breath as if waiting for the ground to fall out from beneath her. Part of her wished it would.

This was different than anything she'd ever experienced and that wasn't a good thing. She knew she'd never get it again. What Willow was giving her now was a gift, one she probably didn't deserve, and it threatened to steal the pleasure from her.

She almost flipped them eagerly, effortlessly, and quickly, but something told her at the last minute to hold back a little. So she crept a hand up behind Willow and slowly, gently maneuvered them so their roles were switched.

Leaning back a little, she realized Willow was panting. “It's one thing,” she said between breaths, “to see a slayer's strength. It's another to feel it.”

For a moment, Faith was confused. But then she realized she'd lifted Willow and supported all her weight in her one arm while switching their positions. Most of the time, with guys, there was too much adrenaline, too much eagerness to get to the sex part that they didn't realize her strength. The only thing they seemed to realize was her stamina. Of which she had plenty, might she add. But when you slowed things down, apparently these small acts of strength were amazing.

She grinned down at the redhead. “I got strength in all my appendages,” Faith said, watching Willow's throat as she swallowed.

Then Willow lifted an eyebrow and grinned, a smirk that would have made the ladies in the big house swoon. “Show me.”

 

* * *

 

Later, after they'd long since lost their clothes, after Faith had seen sparkles behind her eyes at least three times more than she ever had with a guy, she watched as Willow's fingers trailed over her sternum.

“Girl, I got stamina, but you know the phrase 'too much of a good thing,' right?” Faith asked.

Willow lifted her head to look at her, her eyes still half mast. Faith grinned. She'd done that. “Watch,” Willow mumbled softly, resettling onto the pillow and Faith's arm.

Faith watched, falling into a kind of trance as Willow's fingertips sparkled. There was a faint line of light falling from Willow's fingers onto Faith's skin but Faith didn't feel anything.

Normally, Faith didn't do the post-coital thing. Cuddling was for sappy lovers like the Clancy's and the Merle's, back before neighborhood politics got the best of them, or for teenage idiots before they knew how painful life was. Or for Angel and Buffy. Or Riley and Buffy. Or Spike and Buffy, apparently. Mostly, it was something Buffy was allowed to have, not Faith.

Maybe Faith was the stand-in for Buffy, not Willow.

But she'd shoved those thoughts away, to be touched over and kicked around later until they faded into all the other nightmares and dreamscapes. For now, she was going to bask.

Willow's fingers lifted off of Faith's chest by a few inches, drawing out colors and swirls, mostly reds and whites, with dabs of greens and blacks twisting up and dancing like a tornado on her skin.

“What is that?”

“That's you,” Willow said softly.

Faith chuckled, confused. “I'm me. That's magic.”

“There's this... glamour. You can pull out the essence of someone by way of energy. In the form of light. Doesn't hurt the person. Doesn't do anything to the person.”

“What do the colors mean?”

“What do you think they mean?”

“It's gonna be like that, huh?”

She felt more than saw Willow smile against her. If she wasn't so sated, she'd be annoyed.

“Red is for a lot of different things. You're very red. Mostly it means passionate.”

Faith smirked. “Don't need magic to tell you that.”

“Passion stands for a lot of things. Sexual, sure. But also strong-willed. Competitive. Determined.”

Faith blinked. Then she sniffed. “Green in for envy, though, right? I've heard the sayings.”

“Green is for change,” Willow said. “Most people with green auras are in the middle of big changes. And balance. You're very balanced. And yes. A little jealousy is in there, too,” she said, looking at her, her eyes squinted with humor. It didn't feel accusatory or cruel. Just matter-of-fact.

“And black is evil, right?” Faith said.

“Black is hurt,” Willow said softly. “Grief. Black, as a color, absorbs. You absorb. It's actually kind of a good thing, to be honest. Everyone has a little bit of black. A few years ago, I think your colors would have been a lot blacker. A lot greener, darker green. Dark blue. Dark red.” Willow raised her hand higher, drawing more colors into the whirlwind.

“But this?” Willow said. “This shows how good you are. You see all this white?”

Faith swallowed, wanting her to stop suddenly but not finding it in her to say so.

Willow let her hand fall slowly until the colors all disappeared, her fingers splayed across Faith's chest, directly over her heart. Willow leaned up and looked her in the eyes, intense and earnest. “That's all you. Inside.” Willow leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips. Faith didn't have time to react or return the gesture before Willow was pulling away. “Now get out so I can get some sleep.”

A bubble of laughter swelled up inside Faith. “You're taking a page from my book,” Faith said without anger.

“Hey. Consider it payback for Xander. Now you know how it feels.” Though the words seemed like they should hurt, Willow said them playfully and gently, so that Faith didn't feel used and discarded.

“Yeah, yeah,” Faith said, gathering her clothes and slipping into them one by one, with a quickness she's learned in jail.

“Faith?” Willow said just as she was snicking back the lock Faith turned and looked at her, quiet and questioning. “Remember what I said. I used magic to draw it out but it's always in there.”

“Stop getting mushy. Save that for your girlfriend,” Faith said, smirking.

Outside the door, she let her lips turn into something more genuine. Then she chuckled to herself as she headed down the stairs. Apparently sex in her mind was associated with food – suddenly she was ravenous. And she was pretty sure there was something delicious in the freezer with Andrew's name on it.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally cannot write Faith without adding a hefty dose of angst. Sorry.


End file.
